


I Was Drunk, It Was Comic Con

by BabysNotaProp (SuzetteB)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Anal Sex, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Comic-Con, Destiel Promptober, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Promptober, Promptober 2018, Star Wars - Freeform, Switching, Tattoo Artist Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 10:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuzetteB/pseuds/BabysNotaProp
Summary: In this alternate universe, Dean accompanies Charlie on her drunken tattoo parlor visit to receive her infamous ink. The tattoo artist, however, is a gorgeous hunk by the name of Cas, and Dean is pulling out all the stops to make an impression as lasting as Charlie's tattoo.





	I Was Drunk, It Was Comic Con

**Author's Note:**

> Today's prompt for Destiel Promptober 2018: Star Wars. I can't //not// think of Charlie's tatt when I think of Supernatural and Star Wars, so this AU begged to be written!
> 
> This is a fluff monster, so prepare for a *very* happy ending.

How Dean had gotten talked into this was anyone’s guess. It could’ve been on account of the photo op, or maybe his purchases in the vendor room. Mostly likely, it was the lift of his inhibitions from the alcohol. Although the “relatively sober one” of the group, Dean still had to blink away double vision all the way from the convention center.

 

“Tell Garth I said thanks for the shots,” he muttered while linked with Charlie’s arm. They had managed to get just drunk enough to come up with the idea of getting tattoos before security found them sneaking around bottles of whiskey and gin in the corner of the RPG room.

 

“Y’already said thanks, Winchester,” Charlie slurred, stumbling over a curb. “Don’tcha remember?”

 

Dean squinted and looked up at the tattoo parlor signage. “Think so.”

 

“You said it in Wookie.”

 

Giggling to himself, Dean opened the parlor door and let Charlie take the lead in the place, as he had never actually gone in for ink before. A few minutes passed while Dean picked at his nail and stared at the floor, and then Charlie called him over to one of the stations. Someone pulled a chair up for him and he plopped down to watch.

 

“What’cha gettin’?” Dean asked.

 

“Slave Leia on a twenty-sided die,” came the reply as she laid on her stomach.

 

Dean furrowed his brows but said nothing.

 

“I usually advise my clients against getting work done while intoxicated,” a low voice commented from beside him. It was the guy who had set down a chair. “But I like this idea just as much as your friend here.”

 

When Dean looked up, he had to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. The man preparing to work on Charlie was even more stunning than his gravelly voice suggested. His dark hair stood fluffy and messy, and his eyes were bluer than the sea. A strange but beautiful pentagram tattoo with surrounding flames peeked out from under his v-neck t-shirt, and when he turned around, the ends of wings extended down his arms in long, detailed feathers.

 

“Holy shit,” Dean whispered. At least, he _thought_ he had whispered.

 

The man turned back around to begin with a suppressed grin.

 

Okay, so it must not have been a whisper.

 

“What about you, Winchester?” Charlie piped up. “You gettin’ anything?”

 

“Oh uh, yeah,” he nodded, ears ringing with the wee beginnings of a headache. “I dunno what, though.”

 

“Do you have any existing tattoos?” the artist asked, trying to get a feel for the man’s comfort level since he had none visible.

 

“Yeah, but imma make you find ‘em,” Dean said with a naughty wink.

 

Charlie shook her head with an eye roll as the artist sterilized the area on her lower back. He had no such thing, he had informed her before the trip over, but she was genuinely interested in how this would play out.

 

The blue eyed man raised a brow, which was way hotter than it should’ve been. “What are you thinking of getting done? I have a flash up front, if you’re looking for ideas.”

 

“Look, I ain’t usually into people flashin’ me,” Dean chuckled with a flailing hand. He was sobering up far too quickly and if he was going to survive being in the presence of the sexiest piece of ass he’d seen all weekend, he had to pull out all the bad jokes. This man was all sorts of yummy, and that’s even pitting him against some of the cosplayers. “But uhhh, I’ll make an exception.”

 

“Behave, Dean,” Charlie sighed in defeat. “The nice man has sharp instruments at his disposal.”

 

“He’s fine,” Cas assured as he started up his machine. “So, you plan on sticking with her theme?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Since your friend here is getting something Star Wars themed, I think it’s only fair for you to match. How about something with Han Solo?”

 

Mind clear enough to read what he was really asking, Dean shook his head. “It’s not like that, man. We’re more of the Luke and Leia sort, except without the kissing.”

 

“Ew,” Charlie’s face scrunched up.

 

Something shifted in the artist’s face. He seemed a bit… excited? “My name is Castiel.”

 

Ah, a name. Now we’re talking. “Castiel, turn around again so I can see that ass-tiel!”

 

Castiel’s sarcasm could be heard above the buzzing of the equipment. “Wow, never heard that one before.”

 

“Heh,” Dean huffed to himself, proudly despite the fact that his pun wasn’t all that original. “How ‘bout Cas? Can I call you that?”

 

His demeanor softened as he continued to work. “I’ve never been called that before.”

 

“You kidding? Cas-ti-el is so much work. But this is coming from someone with a one-syllable name.”

 

“Well Dean,” Cas remembered from when Charlie let it slip earlier. Dean thought he was going to melt then and there hearing his name roll off that tongue. It dripped thick like honey, and his mind went straight to the gutter as he imagined how it would sound being screamed under the sheets. “I see you both have comic con lanyards. Are you enjoying the convention?”

 

“Yeah, but not as much as I’ve enjoyed meeting you.” Dean’s eyes sparkled as they met Cas’, and they shared a short, shy smile.

 

Cas coughed, clearly caught off guard by Dean’s charms. At least, that’s what Dean told himself.

 

“Oh for Pete’s sake, get a room you two,” Charlie muttered while resting her chin on her crossed arms. “This is more physically painful than the damn tattoo.”

 

“She’s got a point. I actually would like to see more of your work,” Dean said with an eyebrow wiggle. “In private.”

 

Cas actually laughed, and for the first time, Dean noticed his tongue piercing. Fuck, that would be fun to incorporate in the activities Dean had in mind. “Dean, I don’t usually go out with my customers, but you seem pretty fun.”

 

Scoooooore. “Exhibit hall closes at seven.”

 

“I get off at eight.”

 

“Awesome,” Dean grinned. “See you then, handsome.”

 

* * *

 

Dean had since then sobered all the way up, and did not regret his decision one bit. He left the parlor the first time with simply his brother’s initials, and the second time with Cas. Fresh ink still under wraps, Dean moved a bit slower on that arm and Cas was gentle… with that part of him, at least.

 

The rest of him, however, was getting pounded into the mattress like the world was ending. Cas had pulled his ass off the edge of the bed and held his legs as he railed into him, bed whining beneath them. Dean moaned as Cas fucked him long and hard, not regretting leaving on every light in the room to get a full view of Cas’ tattooed front.

 

The rest of the pentagram on his neck was visible, along with several lines of rune-like writing on his abs. He had a large sigil in red centered on his chest, and some lyrics to Pink Floyd’s Learning to Fly written vertically along his side. During Dean’s brief time topping from behind, he got an eyeful of Cas’ wings, and he grasped his arms as he thrusted, trying to imagine what real outstretched feathers must feel like.

 

Dean came all over himself, spurting some on Cas as well, and the blissful sight stirred Cas to intensify his pace. The sudden speed took Dean by surprise, and he simply held onto the sheets for dear life as Cas continued ramming into him. Breathing hard, Cas gripped onto Dean’s legs hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises and gasped as his cock began to twitch.

 

“Dean!” he cried out as he came buried inside. “Fuck, Dean... Oh shit.”

 

He was right. Hearing Cas scream his name was electrifying. Why, oh why couldn’t he have balls of steel and fuck him again right here and now? He would need at least an hour to reload, but that voice had him tingly all over again.

 

“Cas, oh god,” Dean whispered as Cas released his legs and softened inside of him. Dean tried and failed to stop repeating his name, but it was like trying to eat one potato chip. It was too delicious on his tongue to only enjoy once.

 

Cas collapsed beside him on the abused bed. “I uh,” he began, running his hand through his extra messy, post-sex hair. “You’re really amazing, Dean.”

 

Dean smiled, still high on all the oxytocin released. “Ditto, Cas.”

 

Cas didn’t want to think about leaving Dean’s room. The thought saddened him. He wasn’t one to do one-night stands, so he wasn’t sure of proper protocol, but whatever casual sex etiquette required, he wasn’t ready for it.

 

“Do you want me to leave?”

 

Dean blinked at the question, not believing he heard right. “No fucking way, man. Actually, I was hoping I could get your number.”

 

Cas’ face brightened. “Yeah?”

 

“You know, so I can take you on a uh, real date. Instead of just,” Dean gestured vaguely, “this.”

 

“‘Just this’ was incredible,” Cas defended. “But yes, Dean, I would love to go out with you.”

 

Dean couldn’t help the smile that came across his face. How lucky could a guy get? He thanked every lucky star that Garth had brought those bottles in his backpack, and that Charlie had dragged him into the tattoo parlor. He couldn’t speak for Charlie, who was already questioning her life choices regarding the choice of ink, but Dean would never regret tonight, nor any other night he and Cas would share, which turned out to be quite a few.

 

* * *

 

“What’ll it be this time, honey?” Cas asked sometime later. Dean was sitting at his workstation, the machine was running, and Dean was comfortable as could be under his boyfriend’s precise hands. Years had earned Cas Dean’s full trust, and although Cas tried to insist upon sketches first, Dean never disapproved of Cas’ vision and loved it when he freehanded.

 

Somehow, the things that flew out of Dean’s mouth never ceased to keep him on his toes. “How ‘bout a cock and balls? Yours, specifically. Or maybe that tongue ring. Right on my nipple.”  
  
“You’re such an assbutt.”

 

“Or maybe another ring.”

 

Cas furrowed his brows as he prepared the swab.

 

Dean dug into his pants for a small black box. “Or an answer to a question I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

 

Cas cut off the machine with shaking hands, his jaw slack as Dean sunk to the floor on one knee. His ocean blue eyes blew open and his breath stopped in his throat as Dean opened the box with a nervous smile.

 

“Will you marry me, Cas?”

 

Cas’ knees weakened. The other artists paused from their work to glance over, and their customers held their breath to await his answer. Dropping to Dean’s level, Cas threw his arms around him and sucked in a sharp intake of air as a sob rose in his airway.

 

“I would be honored, Dean. Yes.”


End file.
